Search Results for 'sitting'

SITTING IN THE sun reading THE magic journal AFTER A walk, THE connection TO elikozoe AND CO WAS full IN MY MIND. I FELL Asleep quickly, must BE THE short NIGHTS ON earth. WOKE UP WITH A ParchED feeling AND felt LIKE A bride cleaning UP AFTER THE WEDDING. I noticed IT seemed LIKE A FASTliving week FOR THE sand aspects OF THE DRAGONS, SO I googled IT TO TRY AND sort IT OUT.

sitting here having a drink by myself …

NUF – I know we said this one already but I quite like it
NUFF – Not Unother Freakin Focus
EPIC – misspelling of Eric or alternatively ENERGY PLAYING IN COLLABORATION – well a hard word to live up to though.
SPOD – means nothing, just like the sound of it … oh no hang on it does mean something
LOONAR – I am channeling Finnley now

might go home and cook dinner (spuds) instead …

How restless that dragon is, thought Arona. Always shifting this or that, always talking in his damn riddles. She thought fondly of Buckberry, and how peaceful and content he seemed by comparison.

She was no longer sure where she was. She had gone over it a few times in her mind, but try as she might she could not make sense of Leormn’s cryptic explanations. Or that Malvina either, although at least she is a bit more pleasant about it.

Anyway, wherever it is, it feels a bit grey, she decided matter-of-factedly. And I am missing the others, even that grumpy Mandrake if the truth be told.

She closed her eyes and began to paint colours over the grey. She was not sure what to paint at first, so she just dabbed bright blobs of colour haphazardly onto her mind’s canvas. The colours began to run into each other and form shapes and it it seemed to her they wanted to take on a life of their own. So she let them, and it was not long before she found herself in a meadow of spring flowers.

That’s much better, she thought, taking a deep breath and lying back in the soft green grass.

As she lay there her mind drifted sleepily, butterfly thoughts every now and then resting on some bright petal in her field of flowers.

Just living is not enough, said the butterfly as it danced by her head, one must have sunshine, freedom and a little flower.

Oh! said Arona excitedly, recognising the words from a far away time, You must be the butterfly of the story! The one my grandmother used to tell me when I was a little girl in the Village.

Perhaps I am! danced the butterfly and it whirled and twirled and swirled in the sky.

Arona rolled her eyes in exasperation. Now you sound a bit like that wriggly dragon. A simple yes or no would suffice.

The butterfly landed on her nose. Now listen here you! Don’t go blaming me. I am YOUR imagination!

Oh good point Butterfly, said Arona graciously. She pondered a moment … Well in that case …

And next moment Mandrake, Vincentius and Yikesy were sitting in the meadow with her.

Oh THERE you are Missy, said Mandrake. Might have known you would be lying around in some spring meadow leaving Vincentius and myself to look after your little sprog. Tsk Tsk, he tutted.

hmmm, thought Arona, that’s not quite what I had in mind ..

I would have said it’s exactly what you had in mind, whispered the butterfly, fluttering by her ear and then off again until it disappeared into the field of colours.

Arona turned her attention to Vincentius and Yikesy, sitting a short distance away in the meadow. She noticed how smooth and golden Vincentius’ skin looked in the morning sunlight, and how deep and melodic his voice was as he told Yikesy one of his seemingly endless repertoire of stories. Imagining a gentle hug and a kiss on his sweet, but it had to be said incredibly ugly face, she sent Yikesy into a peaceful sleep.

Oh great idea, smiled Vincentius with a wink. What I had in mind all along really. Perhaps you could also imagine Mandrake chasing a field mouse or something?

He was sitting at his desk in his study room. He was alone, reading a report on the emerging clan of the teardrop Island of Tur. Their Elders were apparently beginning to gather some influence upon their kin. The Rule of the Guardians was still prevalent, even though it was now being questioned by these humans. The fear impressed upon their mind for centuries was strong enough to keep them away from the caves leading to the portals, yet from day to day it was diminishing. The Guardians could feel it, but it mattered not, now.

Sinadron scratched his head with his left hand. He was old by the standard of the Guardians. A few centuries. He was one of the strongest along with 2 of the others. Noraam and Keliom, who were still in their youth, were 2 of the 12 other Gates, the higher honorific among them. Their influence was strong as they were the focal points of the powers of their people in the most powerful rituals.

Pushing back the report, he took the wooden cookie jar. Once opened, the smell of the Langurdy cinnamon spread all over the space. Intoxicating scent. He was quite fond of this commodity, rare and sophisticate, the cookies were made by humans. Sinadron was thankful to them in the culinary area. The metabolism of the Guardians was quite different from that of the humans, and their preferences in matter of food were also quite different, though they could share some of them, and the Landurdy cinnamon was one.

He had been so engrossed in his appreciation of the spice that he hadn’t noticed the nudging in his left arm. When he finally realized that someone was trying to contact him he closed the jar and put it back in place, beneath his key. He took his hand capacitor and focused on the kinesthetic movements of the molecules of his arm. It was his preferred method to focus on the caller’s energy. The vibrations were those of Nareena, one of the Gates of the Phréal. She wouldn’t let her energy merge in such intimacy, though she knew his interest.

Sinadron took a more comfortable position on his rocky chair and directed its energy in such a way that it would adapt to the form of his body consciousness. Slowly reconfiguring so he could relax more fully.

In a flash all was said. She’d given him an energy ball and he had captured it, using his capacitor to store it up. No more interaction was necessary, and from the surface of the message ball, he knew it was not so important. He would consult it later. Sitting up, he put his still glowing capacitor on his desk and took back his cookie jar while the rocky chair was reconfiguring again to adapt to his new position.

What a smell…

just remembered another one I meant to tell you. I bought a Brita water filter from the supermarket recently, it was quite spontaneous as I just noticed they had one sitting by itself on the shelf. I think this is a synch with one of Eric’s photos. Also the month counter at the top was set to 11 of the 11th or 11 11

(this is comment 222 btw)

At the aquarium the other day I was really drawn to these cool, luscious, yellow fish, partly because they seemed to be staring at me … then i saw that they were named lemon (something, can’t remember the other word- maybe lemon) fish and cost $57. (it was 57 dollars and something cents, but i can’t remember the cents, so that is a synch with not remembering the rest of the fish name )
Also this gives me an opportunity to use the new fish and lemon icons .

So then, said Franiel sitting down beside a small mound of earth, what now?

The top of the mound of earth was smoothed flat, and with a twig Franiel began to form small spiral patterns abstractedly in the earth. He felt no desire to go back to the monastery and face Aum Geog with the news of the loss.

He held the twig high, and then released it to fall to the ground. It fell without sound, landed unharmed on the mound of earth. He closed his eyes and in the dark at the back of his mind, he heard the voice of his grandmother whisper; Spirals make more sense than crosses Franiel my boy, joys more than sorrows.

Spirals make more sense than crosses….

None of it made much sense to Franiel. The feeling of freedom he felt momentarily slipped away. He was left looking at the space where it had been, feeling empty. The task given him by Aum Geog had given him a feeling of purpose, for a short time had allowed him to forget how lost he felt. Yet now the task had been taken from him, and he was in no hurry to retrieve it, he saw it for the illusion it had been.

What would it feel like to want to go somewhere? Or to want to be something, to want to be a monk, to want to be a teacher, to want to be the father of a family? To be able to arrange oneself neatly in a box and say I belong here?

Spirals make more sense than crosses …. day becomes night becomes day, lives come into being, and go out of being … there is always new life coming into being …… around and around

He began to walk along the path, away from where he had already been …. towards something new? He caught sight of a dead blackbird lying in the long grass to the side of the track and knelt down to look at it.

It is quiet and still.

He dug a hole, scraping in the dirt with his fingers and then using a stone to lever the lifeless body into the hole. The bird’s brown eyes are still open. Franiel covered it with dirt, looking deep into it’s eyes, until there is no sign of it, just a mound of earth.

He traced a spiral in the dirt.

Joys more than sorrows…

He sat back on his heels, and keeping his mind empty, he sang to the dead bird.

Elvira eventually reached the 25th bush on the left at Nutley Park with a bag of assorted garments for the near naked Becky, but there was no sign of her. Elvira investigated the rain drenched foliage, and deduced correctly that the bush had recently been used as some kind of camoflage cover by a taller than average person, mixed race and probably naked.

Elvira chortled with delight; she had loved her days as a private investigator, all those years ago. Well, she said to herself, With a combination of forensic and physical clues, and telepathic and remote viewing skills, I’ll have Becky into some dry – and decent! – clothes in no time at all. Elvira stood quite still (in the torrential rain, which drew a few puzzled glances from the people rushing past), with her eyes closed and a happy contented smile hovering about her lips.

Elvira was connecting to Becky, but she was picking up diverse and nonsensical impressions. A moose running up a flight of stairs, a monk sitting in the road talking about a cup……

Pffft, said Elvira, no point in pushing it. Let’s have a look at the physical clues.

There was an obvious trail of flattened wet grass footprints which meandered, at an incongrously liesurely pace, Elvira noted, in a random higgledy-piggledly fashion between the bushes, and occasionally in circles.

Elvira set off along the trail with a spring in her sprightly old step and an aura of pleasant anticipation. She loved following a trail of clues! My, my, she said to herself, this is what I’ve been missing. Hhhmmm…..

Malika and her dog Leo stood at the entrance of the cave and was so excited to see the little draggies, she screamed with joy… and sent such loving, tender energy into the cave that all the little draggies came out to play with her and Leo, and familiarize themselves with each other. There was a mother dragon that resided inside the cave and as Malvina put her head inside the entrance, she was met with a smile, from the mother of whom was sitting atop a purplish egg.

The Mother Dragon introduced herself as Glordieoun…and said, softly, that this cave was a portal to her world, and a birthing chamber for all mother dragons, that were to be stationed there. It was a pregnancy chamber, a hatching chamber and a childcare chamber, that served the little draggies until they were able to fly themselves, and all the other attributes were in place, for them to be independent.

Glordieoun, said, that she was a bit tired and required some rest, but that she was glad that Malika finally found her way to the house, as her and all her people, knew they were now in safe and caring hands.

The cave was silent, except for the sounds of water springing from one of the wall.
The night was long and full of dreams. Georges and Salome were here since a few weeks now, and the were spending a lot of time with Malvina, talking about many things from different places that Irtak had never heard of. One was called New York City, another was called Vienna, another was the Smoo Cave and there were so many more… Malvina seemed to know most of them. That was the first time he ever wondered how old she could be. Since his arrival here, it had never come to his mind that she could be “old”. He knew she was wiser than most of the Elders, but she seemed so young.

She had magic. Maybe that was the key to her youth.

He felt Heckle and Jeckle stretching their attention in their dream state. Their bodies were lying together on the warm sandy floor, and their light bodies were playing around. He could see them flickering in and out of the room. He could follow them if he wanted, but his mind was full of the places their guests had described.

Georges and Salome were lying on an improvised bed, made of a snoot fur on the warm sandy floor. He was holding her tenderly. Their energy gently merged in a single movement. They were fully opened to one another and Salome was creating an inner landscape for them both to play in. Sam’s body was lying nearby, and her spirit was frolicking around in this inner landscape.

They were sitting in the center of a clearing, at night time. The sky was full of stars and Georges did recognized the sky of the Murtuane. An owl was hooting not far away, sated after her hunt. They could feel her contentment, the hunt was good, several big mice tonight…

Malvina was with them, and appreciating of the environment. She had had few occasions of going to the Murtuane herself. Even though she was so close, living on the Duane, its planetary sister.

— Where are we exactly? asked Malvina.
— Not so far away from the purple beach of Kandulim where Jarvis once came. Jarvis is a focus of Georges. And he surprised me once… Salome recalled that event with amusement.
Georges grinned widely and chuckled.
— Yes, I can remember.

Malvina sighed with relief.
— You are aware that my sisters are coming soon to the cave.
— Yes, we could feel the calling, so to speak. This is the crossroad of many probabilities, and it is connected to many, though not as spread as the shift in “our” dimension is or was, depending on when you project your attention.
It was Malvina’s turn to grin now.
— Yes, I am aware. It will be soon time for us to move the cave into another location.

SPOTCH

OH! THAT’S WHERE YOU THREE HAVE BEEN ALL THIS TIME? INTERESTING ARRANGEMENT OF YOUR PSYCHE. THOUGH I PREFER MY CAVE.

SPOOTCH

Sam got on her legs and barked, quite surprised by this sudden blinking in and out of the dragon.

— HAHAHA, we didn’t even have the time to seem surprised. said Georges. Lëormn was quick. And he likes being in himself.

Salome got on her feet and stroked Sam playfully. The dog was licking her face with affection, and stopped suddenly. She seemed to have heard something.

The owl hooted again.

— My sisters are closer than what I first thought. This owl is an aspect of Oorlaith. Malvina’s gaze became distant for a few seconds. She won’t come tonight with us, though she gives you her fond appreciation. She’s currently busy with a man you already know… Leonard. Another one like yourself
Salome raised one eyebrow.
— Leonard his here too? That’s an interesting information things won’t be dull with him if I dare say so.
— I think he’s got a crush on her. He’s doing some stuffs for her at times… and he’s still with his dog.
Sam barked a few times, waggling her tail and Georges grinned.
— You remember Moufle, eh!? Well, do you know where you’re going Malvina?

She looked at him intensely and then at Salome.
— You might be surprised.

There was a tantalizing scent of wildflowers and meadowgrass in the still cool air of the cave, and as Sanso rounded a bend in tunnel a gentle breeze ruffled the folds of his robes. He quickened his pace, gladdened by the welcome promise of an adventure outside of the endless labyrinth. The air felt cool and warm at the same time, and deliciously fresh and clean as it wafted towards him, and with a feeling of immense joy, he heard a snatch of birdsong.

It seemed like many long years that he’d been trudging around in the gloom and the stale air of the caves, although he suspected it wasn’t as long as that. Time played tricks on him, he knew that, while he was wandering around in the darkness. He’d missed Arona, and that strange baby, when he’d first set off alone again, but not for long. He knew when it was time to move on, and so he’d left them. From time to time he wondered if he’d encounter them again, and knew he would.

A shaft of sunlight spilled into the tunnel and Sanso stepped out into the light. The breeze was fluttering the birch leaves high above him, as he squinted up at the pale blue sky. Grinning happily, Sanso took his time adjusting to the light. He sat cross legged on the soft green grass, feeling it springy beneath his hands. Hundreds and thousands of red and yellow spotted toadstools stretched out as far as he could see, carpeting the forrest floor with polkadots of colour.

Sanso looked down at his hands. The creases of his skin and under his nails were engrained with reddish dust, and he wanted water more than anything, gurgling bubbling fresh clean water. He stood up, and shook his robes a bit, and set off into the woods.

Intuition told him which way to go to find water. He marvelled at tiny flowers, and scampering insects along the way, squashing fungi beneath his bare feet which oozed up through his toes with little squeaky noises.

A rabbit ran accross his path and stopped momentarily to stare at him and Sanso laughed out loud.

Oh! Who’s there?

A girl in bright flowered skirts was sitting on the grass in a clearing just ahead, rubbing her eyes.

Whoa, I must be dreaming, she said, and rubbed her eyes again. She peered at the apparition in indigo robes, with skin the colour of tobacco and wild matted hair. Am I dreaming? she asked Sanso.

Perhaps, perhaps not, replied Sanso, who wasn’t really sure. I may be dreaming myself. My name is Sanso, anyway, what’s yours?

Zhana, the girl replied, Well, Uncle Grishenka calls me Zhanochka, but I…but I….I hate him, and I’m not going back! And much to her surprise, she burst into tears.

Sanso was momentarily non-plussed, and wondered what to do next.

Well, dear, if you don’t want to go back, why, then don’t go back! He wasn’t quite sure what the problem was; after all, he’d been wandering for so many years on impulse and whim he hardly knew any other way to go about it.

I don’t know where to go instead though, Zhana said tearfully. The long dark cold will be here again soon, and I must have shelter somewhere…..who will have me, besides Uncle Grishenka?

What long dark cold? asked Sanso. It seemed light enough and warm enough here.

Oh, my! Zhana was astonished. You ask me what long dark cold? Where have you come from? How is it you don’t know of the long dark cold? Oh! Are you from Nishanti’s place?

Zhana stood up in some considerable excitement. Can you take me to Nishanti’s place? Oh please say yes!

Well, I, er, um…..well, I suppose so. Well, yes! Sanso didn’t want to let the girl down, although he wasn’t altogether sure he knew where Nishanti’s place was. But he was game to give it a try, and the company of the girl would be a welcome change.

Tell me about Nishanti, then, Zhana, and what her place is like. Sanso was hoping a few clues might ring a bell, perhaps.

Nishanti has been my friend for as long as I can remember, Zhana said. We dream together mostly, well, Zhana blushed, Uncle Grishenka says it’s all in my head…he say’s it’s nonsense….

Zhana squared her shoulders and carried on. Sanso had a kind look, and nodded encouragingly.

She hardly wears any clothes, and her skin is warm and brown. The sun always shines and the sky is always deep blue in her place and we play outside all year long. There’s always warm ripe fruits to eat, not turnips and noodles, colourful juicy berries and plump pink fishy things, and there are flowers all year long, and the water isn’t frozen, we can play in the water and it doesn’t turn our hands blue…..

Ah, the other side of the world…hhhmmm…..Sanso rubbed his whiskery chin thoughtfully.

Ok, I can’t promise we can find Nishanti, but I think we can find the other side of the world. But first, I’d like to find some water, and perhaps a little fresh food?

Zhana whooped with delight, and flung her arms around Sanso. Yes, yes!

Sitting at her desk, Alana couldn’t focus on the document she was reading. A report from one of her companies. She could feel the energy of that French guy Langlade. He was sent by the Baron, and she knew he was dangerous. She was expecting him this morning, and it was almost 5pm. Well she was a bit overwhelmed because of what was at stake. She couldn’t allow him to take it. She couldn’t allow the Baron to use it. And she couldn’t destroy it either.

For the moment the crystal skull wasn’t here. She was aware that Langlade knew it. Though it was not for the reason he could imagine. And she wouldn’t reveal it to him… freely.

She called Mr Isashi. She couldn’t put it off eternally.

— Allow him in, Mr Isashi. Though take your time.

— Very well, Aunt.

— Is Harry here?

— Not yet, Aunt. Do you want me to summon him?

— No. Maybe it’s better if he doesn’t show up.

He looked at her furtively, and she smiled back at him. Her fear well hidden under a dose of confidence. She would never allow it to happen.

Robert was waiting in the living room. He was lounging on a golden couch when the man came back and told him she would receive him. At last…

Well he was not in a hurry. He was patient, and so was the Baron… for now. And apparently he was to need a lot of patience.
The pace of the Japanese boy was slow, and he wouldn’t allow him to speed up. Apparently she was nervous and wanted him to feel so.

The corridor was well lit. Richly decorated with paintings or statues.
He had to admit she had a refined taste.

They stopped before a yellow door. The boy knocked 3 times and Robert could hear that the wood was very heavy. As he opened the door, they could hear a masculine voice.

— You may need my skills.

— Who are you? said Alana. And how did you get here?

it sounds quite synchy to me Jib

the evening of my initial egg synch a few days ago, I had another egg synch :yahoo_tongue:. There was a news item about a forestry worker who had found 2 eggs in a nest, and recognised them as morepork eggs. A Morepork is NZ’s only remaining native Owl, and I think endangered, this one was the first in 20 years thought to have been reared and hatched in captivity. The Morepork, named Whisper, was on the news item, it was so cute, it had huge yellow eyes like saucers which reminded me of Tina’s comment in the story, and was sitting on top of the reporters head preening his hair throughout most of the interview.

I dreamed of 2 owls that night too.

— Where is your bloody friend?

Armando was muttering again, growing impatient and agitated he couldn’t appreciate stillness. He was “so busy” as he was pleased to remind his friend. Sam was rather amused and held his friend in great affection. But at times it could be very irritating.

— We’re going to be late. I have another appointment in 2 hours, and it is in Boston. Not that my new car can’t do that…

He looked at Sam, waiting some kind of approbation or validation, maybe was he looking for awe. But Sam wasn’t impressed at all. He could be in Boston and in Botswana at the same time… well not yet physically in both but he was getting better at it. It was not so important now to be all physically focused in one place and time… or rather to block the recognition of the other places and times one was focusing on. Well he was lost in his thoughts, waiting for Becky.

— It’s quite… Yellow , Al said in a neutral voice.

Armando seemed satisfied with this answer. Maybe the answer itself wasn’t important, he had been acknowledged, he was influencing his environment… Looking at Al, Sam smiled with a

I told you, Armando is not yet familiarized with telepathy.

Yeah, it is quite useful not to be noticed. Though I really wonder what Becky is doing, we still have to give Tina a lift. She’s learning to declaim lyric poetry, she fancies her teacher, you know…

Sam couldn’t help but laugh at the image Al had conveyed to him.

— What? You think I can’t do it with my new car?

Sam had no idea of what Armando was talking about. Since he had bought this new gadget, he only had one thread of converstation available. Though Becky and Tina were quite eager to try this new technological progress. Becky almost fell into Canal Street’s dark water last time she went to see her friend Yang Tsung, her Chinese herborist, in a gondocab. She was looking for some hair growing potion, and she left with some new preparation to help her regain her balance.

Becky was late, and it was quite unusual… well most of the time she was not.
Sam and Al joined their thoughts and opened themselves to her energy, all they could grasp was about some nine tailed fox, and Chumpy… was she trying to mate her Chumpy with one of those new fancy pet breed?
A few minutes later, she was jumping from a gondocab to the yellow flying car.

— Sorry I’m late… you know I was at this new “Rent’a Pet Shop, Boy!”, it’s fantastic the variety of old and new breeds they have. A poor girl was looking for a parrot or a magpie… so common, hopefully she would follow my advice and take one of those nine-tailed glowing fox.

Her gaze was distant for a few seconds and Chumpy was protesting at how she was holding him.

— Well it matters not as you know. Chumpy don’t be rude to mama! She sat and grinned voraciously, looking a bit worried. When are we going? We’ll be late to meet Tina!

Armando was gaping at her, and decided he would rather not argue with her. It was his first time with her and he already had categorized her.

All 3 were sitting on the rear of the car, while Armando was driving, focused on his new toy, trying not to make them all crash on one of the emerging towers of Manhattan Water Town. Sam was telling his friends about a dream he had last night and that seemed quite important. At least it was the only one of the night he could remember.

— How unusual of you, Becky said, you should meet Yang Tsung, his herbs are quite efficient, he’s got weeds for anything…

They lost her for a few seconds again, and Al looked at Sam, encouraging him to continue with his dream. Sam attention was splitted between Becky’s strong energy and the concentration of Armando who was not so confident in his ability to drive the flyellow car after all.

— Well, as I told you it was about new focuses of Al and I, they were journalists…

— Journalists? Like my friend Bonny! Did I tell you about her last crush? She fancies a future focus of her mother. He’s called Moht and lives 200years ahead from now. She goes and meets him in her dreams mostly, but she’s practicing with rendering more real during her… She stopped speaking, looking a bit confused

Al laughed heartily, Sam was still and seemed to listen so carefully to what she was saying, that it was comic.

— Continue Sam, journalists then?.., she said, stroking Chumpy distractedly.

— Journalists yes, and they were creating a relationship similar to Starsky and Hutch. They were attending a meeting, though I don’t remember what it was all about. All I know is that Al and I were time-travelling, and we happened to meet them at that moment. I don’t know how we knew that the conference would be the target of a terrorist group, but we were there to warn them. We were talking with my focus, Simeon, as Andre, the focus of Al was already in the conference room. It was an international conference and the bomb would cause many death among political personalities, scientists, writers and so on… Well my focus thanked us for the warning but also told me that they had their lot of fun and mischiefs in their lives and that they were ready to disengage.

— Wow! I have a synch with that. I think I was one of the Indian woman there, maybe a minister or similar? You know what? We’re planning to go to Madagascar with Sean for our honey moon

— Great! answered Al and Sam in unison.

— We’re at the Opera, Armando said, Is it your friend who looks so furious?

One for sorrow, two for joy, when the moon shines bright or not at all…..what WAS that book, Becky wondered. Years and years ago in an adventure book, a children’s book; was it the famous five? The intrepid six? A clue, a magpie silhouette on a loose brick….the treasure hidden behind the brick…..the adventurous seven? The jingle, the magpie jingle….. in a children’s adventure book…..

Becky, are you alright? asked Sean. You’ve been sitting there staring into space for hours.

Twenty minutes later Becky replied, Huh? Haha, I seem to be in slow motion today, it’s really rather pleasant.

Three and a half hours later, Becky smiled drowsily and said, It wasn’t the famous five, it was the wandering one……the wandering one, after all….

Becky caught SIGHT OF THE MOON AND liked THE WHITE light. SHE FOUND herself SITTING quietLY, BLISSFULLY UNAWARE OF DEAD GUY sessionS IN THE white OF THE SILVERY MOON. I WILL remember THIS! OF ALL THE tripS, A MOMENT OF MOONLIGHT apparently WAS KEY. SHE knew HER random ROAMING years WERE HERE FOR MANY A year TO COME. THE NIGHT air AND THE MAGIC moon IS KEY. SHE wondered WHY SHE DIDN’T HAVE THE sense TO NOTICE THE moments MORE OFTEN.

AS IT happened, I WAS getting A thought ABOUT THOSE dead green eggs AND heard THAT THE family SAW red ABOUT mother DRAGON SITTING ON THE trees.